


Secrets and Family Don't Mix

by Glissa



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Derek Loves Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Post Season 2, Protective Derek, Smut, Stiles Loves Derek, Stiles is 18, everyones happy, fully formed and functioning pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glissa/pseuds/Glissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that they forgot to tell anyone, there's no way either of them could forget this. It's just that they both lead very busy lives, and sometimes things slip through the gaps. Also, they may have just wanted to keep it between themselves, at least for now. But they definitely didn't forget. </p><p>Or: how the pack, and the pack by proxy, find out Stiles and Derek are dating. </p><p>This is not a WIP. I have completely finished this, but I'll be putting it up in increments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lydia

**Author's Note:**

> So, this isn't the first fic I've written, but this is the first I'm posting, like ever. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I really hope it's not complete and utter crap. I've read through it so many times I have no idea anymore, so fingers crossed people like this. Criticisms are always welcome, but please be careful with me. Also, kudos and bookmarks and comments are always welcomed and appreciated!
> 
> Sorry if there are any mistakes, grammar or spelling or just general things I've overlooked. It's unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own and I apologise in advance if there are any. 
> 
> I do not give permission for any of my work to appear on any other websites, Goodreads etc. or to be re-posted anywhere else, unless permission has been asked. I spent a lot of time on this and I'd like the courtesy that it won't be stolen. I don't own, nor am I in any way affiliated with Teen Wolf or MTV. If I was, the characters would have far better development and be treated with the love and respect they deserve. Especially Derek Hale. Derek is my baby and I'll protect him at all costs. Stiles too.

Stiles breathed out what could be considered the mother of all yawns, loud and guttural, his mouth stretching wide enough for someone to see down his throat as he re-focused his blurry eyes, trying to discern what numbers were what on his locker. His head was hazy, the whole morning so far passing in a dazed blur; his limbs were heavy, his feet dragging behind his every step, his fingers loose, and he felt like his head was going to fall off at any second. He was beyond tired, he was freaking exhausted. He’d barely gotten any sleep last night, and even though he had gotten used to running on a minimum amount of sleep – especially since the whole Scott-becoming-a-werewolf-now-everyone’s-a-werewolf-and-there’s-creatures-that-want-to-come-kill-them thing had come to light – but this was different. This time he didn’t even have any adrenaline to run on. He was just exhausted. It was his fault really, Derek had finally woken up late last night after being unconscious for three days after the harpy attack, and Stiles had been so relieved they had spent the rest of the night lazily trading kisses and – eventually – slow and glorious handjobs in bed. As much as they both wanted to, Derek was still recovering from the harpy poison, and Stiles didn’t want to hurt him (even though Derek would never admit it) more by letting things get more heated. They hadn’t gone to sleep until almost half four that morning, but it had been worth it.

Stiles smiled around a second yawn as he fiddled with his combination lock again, his cheeks starting to heat up at the memory of waking up with Derek lying half on top of him, peppering soft kisses to the back of his neck. God what he would give to still be in bed with him right now, instead of in school. They’d only been together for four months, and they still hadn’t told the pack, but damn if they both weren’t happy now.

He slapped himself out of his stupor at the sound of someone slamming their locker shut two down from him, mentally chastising himself that he had five minutes until the first bell. How he managed to get out of bed and to school on time he had no idea, but it had happened. He sighed as he finally managed to get his locker open, third time lucky, and pulled the door open hard. He just about managed to avoid hitting his head on the locker door as it swung open, his eyes going cross-eyed at almost being smacked. He shook his head in a desperate attempt to wake up, remembering painfully that the reason he managed to make it to school on time was because he hadn’t had any coffee, or food for that matter, before falling out the door and into his jeep. There was no way he was going to be concentrating today. He dumped half his textbooks in his locker, pulling out his Econ book instead and stuffing it in his bag, praying to anyone that was listening that Coach would be taking it easy today.

“Hey Stiles!” Lydia called out, loud and cheerful as she bounced up next to him, looking like the embodiment of sunshine and a good night’s rest.

Stiles, for all his worth, yelped at the surprise, jumping half a foot in the air and about five inches forward, into his locker. Both his left knee and his right hand crashed into the locker at the jump, his knuckles cracking under the force.

“Fuck!” Stiles bit out, hopping on his right leg as he rubbed his left knee, simultaneously waving his right hand around at the same time. It was quite possibly the least graceful and most amusing thing he’d done so far this year. “Morning.” He grouched, collapsing against his locker and almost falling in.

“Stiles. Did you sleep last night?” Lydia asked, her smile faltering as she leaned in closer to look at him, her gaze calculating as she tried to take in every minor detail of his appearance. It was unnerving to say the best.

“Yeah, totally.” Stiles replied, offering her a wide smile in a hope to convince her. Her brow furrowed as she tilted her head to one side, clearly not believing it for a second. “No.” He answered honestly, running a hand through his already messy hair. Screw appearances.

“Are you…is that Derek’s shirt?” She pointed to his chest, her brow somehow managing to furrow even more.

Stiles glanced down at his chest, resisting the deep-seated urge to bang his head against the locker. So apparently in his very tired and lazy state to get out of bed and to school on time, he had grabbed the closest, most clean smelling shirt on the floor - which just so happened to be one of Derek’s old t-shirts. Luckily it was a little on the small side for the werewolf now, so it just looked like a stretched, old and worn t-shirt that Stiles had had for a while. At least he was wearing a hoody over the top so it wasn’t so obvious, but still; when over half of his friends were werewolves with stronger olfactory systems and were human – ehh, human – lie detectors, then the chance of him getting away with this slimming by the second.

“Yes.” Stiles admitted, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He lied, all his friends were lie detectors – Allison and Lydia could tell lies a mile off as well. Stiles stood no chance.

“Why?” She questioned, her interest now fully piqued. There was no way he was getting away with this. Stiles ran his hands through his hair again, trying to figure out the best way to reveal this. “Wait, holy shit. You guys finally got your heads out of your asses, didn’t you?” She asked, her painted lips curling into a wide and happy smile.

“Err, yes?” Stiles replied, his eyebrows rising slightly.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Lydia almost screeched, slapping him on the shoulder.

“We wanted to keep it quiet, you know, just for the moment.”

“How long?” Lydia looked like she was about to burst. Stiles was actually quite worried, he’d never seen her so excited and happy.

“Four months.”

“Four months?” She screeched, all remnants of her smile gone. “What the hell? How could you not tell me? Why didn’t you tell me? I mean the others, I understand. But me, Stiles?”

“Sorry?” He tried, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

“Sorry? You owe me more than a sorry Stiles. You,” she punctuated with a finger at his chest, “are telling me everything, right now. And don’t worry, I won’t tell the others.” She added with a wink. Stiles didn’t let it fool him, her eyes were still shining with fire and determination; she would be getting the story one way or another. He nodded submissively, suppressing another yawn as she turned on her heel, strawberry blonde curls flying out, and headed for their Econ class, Stiles trailing along behind. He fired off a text as soon as he finished regaling his story to Lydia once they were seated in class – luckily Scott and Allison were too busy with each other to notice anything off about Stiles.

 **Stiles:** _“You need to train your betas better.”_

 **Derek:** _“What did they do now?”_

 **Stiles:** _“Nothing, it’s what they didn’t do.”_

 **Derek:** _“?”_

 **Stiles:** _“None of them have noticed how much I smell like you. Or that I’m wearing your shirt.”_

 **Stiles:** _“Oh, and F.Y.I. I borrowed one of your shirts.”_

 **Derek:** _“Isn’t that a good thing? I thought we were going to keep it quiet for now?”_

 **Stiles:** _“Yeah, but it just goes to show how unobservant they are.”_

 **Derek:** _“Okay.”_

Stiles could actually see the soft, fond smile that he frequently caught Derek giving him in private in that text, as well as the overly exasperated roll of his eyes.

 **Derek:** _“Also, how do you know that wasn’t part of my plan? To get you to wear my clothes more often?”_

 **Stiles:** _“Because you don’t need a plan? I’m more than happy to steal your clothes dude.”_

 **Stiles:** _“Oh, and Lydia found out about us. She said she won’t tell anyone though.”_

 **Derek:** _“Told you. You owe me five bucks.”_

Stiles rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek to stop his lips curling into a wide smile at Derek being an idiot. He was turning into Scott, a completely love-struck idiot. He stuffed his phone away as Coach trampled into the room, looking exactly how Stiles’ felt. He managed to stay awake for all of two minutes, before promptly dozing off with his head resting on his hands.


	2. The Sheriff

“…I kid you not, he went flying across the field, and straight into Coach. They went down like a ton of bricks, limbs everywhere, it was the funniest thing I’d seen in so long. And Isaac was just standing in the middle of the field, looking so freaking traumatised, I thought he was gonna crap his pants and run away.” Stiles tapered off his story with a throaty laugh, shaking his head slightly at the betas antics. 

“He’s probably used to rough-housing with the others, probably got too caught up in everything and forgot that he wasn’t just tussling with wolves.” Derek replied, his own lips curling into a fond smile. They were seated at one of the small diners in Beacon Hills, half-eaten burgers and piles of fries sitting on the table in front of them, forgotten in lieu of Stiles’ story. It wasn’t unusual for them to have dinner out; more often than not they did choose to just eat at the loft, but sometimes there was a craving – usually on Stiles’ behalf – that only Dottie’s, the little diner they were in, could cure. It helped that she aided and abetted Stiles’ slightly unhealthy obsession with curly fries by always giving him more. Not that he’d ever tell his father that. 

Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek’s response, suppressing the shiver that raced up his arm as he felt Derek’s fingers lightly trace over his palm, running over the knots of flesh where his fingers met his palm. Stiles let his own graze over the calloused skin of Derek’s upturned palm, trying to grip on as Derek’s fingers tracked their way to his wrist, pushing slightly on the pulse point, sending a jolt of electricity through Stiles’ body. What was such a simple gesture of Derek lightly touching Stiles’ hands had sent a pool of heat curling low in his stomach; the touches feathery and soft in a way that was a complete juxtaposition to Derek, who was normally all sharp-edges and hard lines. The worse part of it was that the werewolf knew exactly what effect the touches would have on Stiles – and he wouldn’t even need his enhanced senses to do so. 

Stiles glanced up from where he was watching Derek’s fingers trace over his hand in slow, comforting unknown patterns, his breath catching in his throat when his eyes met Derek’s. His green eyes were shining in the light as they focused on Stiles, even though they were so clearly distant, and his lips had curled upwards in a soft, private smile. Stiles’ heart skipped several beats and then began to race in his chest, all breath leaving his lungs at how happy Derek looked. He almost couldn’t believe that this Derek was the same as the brooding, total creeperwolf they’d met all those months ago. 

“What?” Stiles asked softly, feeling slightly embarrassed at being watched, no matter how adorable it was.

“What?” Derek echoed stiltedly, coming out of his stupor as he re-focused his gaze. His cheeks and the tips of ears flushed red almost immediately, and he ducked his head down into his chest to try and hide his reaction. 

“You were looking at me with your goober face.” Stiles teased, his fingers digging into Derek’s palm just enough to reassure him. 

Derek looked up, his brow furrowed and his lips thinned, all remnants of a smile gone. “I don’t have a ‘goober face’, idiot.” He ribbed with a smirk, picking up a fry and throwing it across the table at Stiles. It hit him on the chest, before dropping onto his lap. Stiles shrugged as he considered the fry, picking it up and popping it in his mouth with ease. His lips widened into a happy smile at Derek, who simply rolled his eyes at the teenager. 

“You’re an idiot.” Derek huffed, twining his fingers with Stiles’ across the table.

“Yeah, but you love me, so…” Stiles started with a shrug, before promptly sticking out his tongue at Derek audaciously. 

“Boys.” A third voice chimed in, bringing them both out of their private world. Stiles yelped and jumped half a foot in his seat as he looked upwards to find his father standing at the end of the table, looking pointedly between him, Derek, and then their hands intertwined on the table. Stiles felt Derek stiffen across the booth, his smile completely gone again as he watched the Sheriff with bated breath. 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” Stiles asked, his voice slightly too high for him to pass it off. 

The Sheriff simply raised an eyebrow as he fixed his gaze on where their hands were still grasped on the table. Stiles was torn between wanting to let out and pretend it was nothing, and finally just letting his father know the truth. It had to happen eventually, didn’t it?

“I could ask you the same question.” He replied calmly, using his ‘Sheriff’ tone. Stiles knew that tone well. It was the tone that got suspects to break; it was the tone Stiles had rarely had directed at him, and the few times he did, he hated it. He shrunk slightly in his seat.

“We were just having dinner.” Stiles answered feebly. He felt Derek squeeze his hand gently, offering support in the only way the werewolf knew how to. Stiles returned the gesture with a quick smile and a squeeze of his hand, silently communicating his thanks. 

The Sheriff sighed, clearly having seen the action between his son and the Alpha, his shoulders relaxing visibly at having to drop the pretence. “You know, I saw this coming for a while now. Can’t say I’m too surprised.” He said with another sigh. 

“What?” Stiles gasped, his jaw dropping as he gawked at his father.

“Don’t worry kid, I’m not gonna bust you here.” Stiles relaxed back in his seat at the words. “But you.” The Sheriff turned on Derek, pointing a stern finger at the Alpha. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at how Derek was looking at the older man like a deer in headlights. “I expect you round for dinner tomorrow night, you can tell me exactly what your intentions towards my son are.” 

Derek nodded quickly, before stuttering out a shaky “yes sir.” Stiles almost cooed at the sight. Derek seemed to sense that and snapped his head towards the teenager, his eyes quickly hardening in a glare. Stiles simply shrugged and winked at the werewolf, both knowing full well that Derek’s threats held nothing over Stiles anymore. 

“And you.” The Sheriff continued, causing Stiles to jump again as he turned to look at his father, now pointing a finger at him. His eyes widened at being singled out. “I expect pizza for dinner. And none of that healthy crap either; I want a full on Meat Lovers, with chicken wings and ice-cream. And beer.”

“You can have salad.” Stiles attempted to negotiate, ignoring his heart hammering in his chest.

“I can also arrest your boyfriend.” The Sheriff mock-threatened, his eyes shining with mirth. Derek straightened in his seat instantly, eyes flicking about the diner looking for the best way to escape. 

“Fine.” Stiles relented. “But the day after – I’m making you salad for lunch and dinner.” 

“Yeah.” The Sheriff breathed out with a chuckle. “We’ll see about that son. Derek.” The man slapped Derek on the shoulder, squeezing the muscle slightly in a measuring manner. Derek simply nodded his assent. The Sheriff hummed as he grabbed the half-full paper bag of curly fries on Stiles’ plate, ignoring Stiles’ heated “Hey!” as he turned around and walked happily out the diner. 

Stiles deflated against the leather of the booth, lips turned downwards in a pout. His curly fries. He looked up resignedly as Derek squeezed his hand again, a soft, sympathetic smile on his lips. 

“I’ll get you more.” The Alpha promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks so far! Like I stated in the synopsis, this work is completed, I'm just planning on posting up a couple of chapters a day. Kudos, comments and bookmarks are always welcome!


	3. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter than the others, so I thought I'd post it up tonight as well. Don't forget: kudos, bookmarks and comments are always appreciated!

Derek’s eyes snapped open as soon as he heard the thick, heavy door to the building creak open, his body already tensing. The loft was dark, the only light coming in from the lone streetlight outside and the half-moon above. The alarm hadn’t gone off, but that didn’t mean that the intruder hadn’t disabled it. He listened as the person started the ascent to the loft, briefly wondering how much Stiles would grouch if he threw him off. They’d fallen asleep on the couch around five – Stiles tired from a long day at school at the end of a long week with a rogue Omega running around the preserve; Derek had been more than happy to comply to Stiles’ demand for a nap and cuddles. Stiles was still asleep on Derek, lying on top of him, his head resting on Derek’s pectoral, warm, steady breaths curling onto his neck. His right arm was thrown over Derek’s chest, resting just on the edge of the sofa, hand buried under Derek’s shoulder, whilst his other arm was straight down against the back of the sofa, fingers curling against the soft fabric of Derek’s sweatpants. His legs were in between Derek’s, the werewolf’s own legs caging him in, crooked at the calf so their feet could tangle together. Derek had his arms wrapped around the teenager, one hand resting between Stiles’ shoulder blades, the other lying on the small of his back. Their breaths and heartbeats were completely in sync, and with barely any space separating them, there was a sense of unity and peace that could only be achieved between mates. Until this point, Derek had let his guard down, something he was highly regretting now; because there was someone coming up to the loft, and Derek was stuck under his mate. His mate who could potentially be in danger. 

Derek focused his senses and listened as the intruder continued their ascent to the loft, his arms tensing around Stiles, ready to throw him off at the last second. He carefully untangled their feet, biting down on the inside of his cheek as Stiles snuffled at the movement, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s chest in an attempt to get comfortable, chasing the heat from Derek’s legs. The invader climbed the last set of stairs, the shuffling of their feet making Derek’s heart pick up; the casualness of their approach setting him on edge. Finally, the trespasser got to the large, sliding door, and with them, their scent. Derek let out a large and loud sigh as he visibly relaxed, his body sinking back into the sofa, and rolled his eyes. His lips quirked up at the corner as Stiles’ snuffled again, the sudden action jolting him a little. He didn’t need to worry about waking the teenager up; Stiles was the heaviest sleeper around. Usually the only things that could wake him up were kisses, sex or food. Sometimes all three. 

The loft door slid open carefully, the young beta clearly aware of Stiles fast asleep as he slunk into the loft. He stopped short just inside however, his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping open just slightly as he tried to comprehend the image in front of him. Derek met his eyes from where he was on the couch, one eyebrow raised, the Alpha not needing to say anything at all. 

“Oh crap. Sorry, I didn’t realise you guys were…” Isaac whispered, his words fading away as he clearly tried to figure out what exactly his Alpha and his packmate were doing.   
Derek waved him off, his right arm tightening around Stiles’ body just slightly, relishing in the feel of Stiles’ resting above him. 

“Wait, does this mean you guys are together?” Isaac asked, his voice pitching slightly in surprise, even though he tried to keep quiet so as not to wake Stiles. 

Derek simply raised an eyebrow again, looking at Isaac like he couldn’t believe he was actually asking that question. 

Isaac nodded at the action, getting all the confirmation he needed from his stoic Alpha, before asking, “Does the pack know?”

Derek raised both eyebrows this time, the corner of his lips tugging up just slightly at Isaac’s awkwardness. 

“Oh okay. Keeping it a secret huh? Okay. I’ll just…” Isaac stuttered, pointing back over his shoulder. “I just wanted to ask Stiles for help with my History essay, but I can ask tomorrow. I’ll see you guys later.” He finished, before stumbling out the loft, closing the large door behind him. 

Derek shook his head, letting out a small, fond huff at the beta, before wrapping his arms around Stiles again.

“At least he didn’t walk in on us having sex.” Stiles mumbled into his neck, eyes still closed. Derek chuckled, a deep, throaty vibration that made Stiles hum in pleasure. He knew Stiles had woken around the time that Isaac walked in, but had chosen sleep over social interaction. Apparently Derek being on edge was another thing that could wake the heavy sleeper. 

Derek didn’t bother to reply. Instead he tightened his hold on Stiles as the human shifted around and nuzzled up against the werewolf’s neck, smiling into his chest as Derek pressed a kissed to his forehead. He knew they should probably get up, they had been sleeping for long enough and that they should probably order food at some point; but here, right now with Stiles curled up on top of him, the temptation to fall back asleep was too strong. So that was exactly what he did.


	4. Erica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments and the kudos and bookmarks so far, it means a lot to me! I'm really glad you guys are all reading this and liking it so far! As usual, I'll be putting up two chapters today :)

Stiles groaned loudly, before letting out a particularly good and slightly threatening growl, the noise reverberating low in his throat. Derek noticed how his lips had curled back, baring his teeth, and his eyes had darkened in an almost perfect imitation of a wolf, of him. Although it was terrifying, it was also kind of hot. He pushed that thought away as Stiles threw his pen down on the coffee table, his head dropping to his hands dejectedly. They were both on the couch in the loft; Stiles working on his essay, loose sheets of paper and textbooks scattering the table in front of them, whilst Derek sat next to him, book in hand.

Stiles whimpered into his hands, the scent of anxiety and stress pouring off the teenager in droves, quickly choking Derek. The older man closed the book and scooted forwards, nosing behind Stiles’ ear in an attempt to soothe him. Stiles leaned into the touch, tilting his neck to give the werewolf more access, earning a pleased rumble from the Alpha.

“Take a break.” Derek suggested, smiling softly as Stiles’ visibly shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath curling over his skin.

“I can’t.” Stiles moaned into his hands. “I have to keep going.”

“You’re stressing out. Just take a break. Half an hour.” Derek advised softly, peppering light kisses behind Stiles’ ear, breathing in his strong scent.

“No, I really can’t. I’ve got this essay to finish and I’ve only written a hundred words and I just can’t form coherent sentences at the moment. And then I’ve got a paper for Econ, and one for English and I’ve Chemistry homework due in as well, and I can’t stop.” Stiles whined, finally bringing his hands away. His cheeks were red, flushed from a lack of oxygen, and his eyes were glazed over. Derek could already smell the salt coming from him. He ran a hand over Stiles’ back, letting his fingers dig into each knot in his spine.

“Stiles. You’re stressing out. The more you force yourself to work the less you’ll actually do, the more stressed you’ll become. Just half an hour, don’t think about it. Just relax.” Derek prompted, bringing his hand up to Stiles’ head, letting his fingers card through his hair. Stiles hummed, leaning into the touch as he closed his eyes and exhaled loudly.

“How are you so good at this?” Stiles asked, turning to face Derek fully, his voice low and gravely and tempting.

“You forget, I’ve done this before.” Derek replied, an eyebrow quirking up.

Stiles laughed, the noise loud and startling in the quiet of the loft, appealing to the wolf’s need to make his mate happy. “Yeah, alright I trust you. Half an hour.”

“Good.” Derek answered contentedly, forever preening at hearing those three words come from Stiles’ mouth. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ lips quickly. “I’ll go get some food.” He pulled away and made to get up, but not before Stiles grabbed his wrist and yanked him back down. Derek landed with an oomph against Stiles, barely getting a word out before Stiles’ crashed his lips to Derek’s, lean fingers pressing into his neck, holding the wolf down. Derek hummed as he all but melted into the kiss, letting his hands track up Stiles’ thighs before finally settling on his hips, gripping just tight enough for Stiles to moan.

The world around them faded as they fell into an easy, familiar rhythm, tongues dancing and flitting against each other, lips bruising and roving and nipping hungrily. Derek teased a seductive series of moans and whimpers out of Stiles as he started mouthing at the pale column of his throat, alternating between peppering kisses and sucking bruises on the warm skin. He ended at the claiming bite at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, smiling into the skin as Stiles shuddered at the touch. He laved and licked at the mark, before letting his blunt, human teeth fit into the indents, biting down until Stiles whined, his own fingers digging into Derek’s shoulders. Derek licked his way back up to Stiles’ mouth, relishing in the taste of him as he nipped at his jaw.

Fed up with waiting, Stiles pulled Derek back to him in a bruising kiss, nibbling on the werewolf’s bottom lip teasingly. Derek hummed in pleasure as Stiles pushed him back into the sofa - both knowing that Stiles’ occasional show of strength appealed to both Derek and his wolf – swinging a leg over easily and settling in Derek’s lap. Derek’s hands ran further up Stiles’ thighs, planting themselves on the curve of his ass and tugging him closer. He groaned into Stiles’ mouth as the teenager rolled down onto the tent in his sweatpants, but instead of teasing Stiles’ own obvious erection, he chose to angle Stiles’ head just slightly to deepen the kiss, wiping the smug smirk of Stiles’ face in the process.

The loft door slid back on the runner with a loud bang, alerting the two men to a newcomer.

“Hey boss - ” a familiar female voice started, only to be cut off by what could only be called a pterodactyl screech.

Stiles yelped at the sudden intrusion, almost jumping out of his skin and smacking Derek in the chest with his hand. Like a man burned, he twisted to try and get off Derek, knowing that one side of him was clear to swing his leg back over and sit on the couch in an attempt to be casual. Unfortunately, he swung his left leg over as he twisted, his back instantly connecting with the arm of the chair. Even with his werewolf reflexes, everything happened too quickly for Derek to do anything, and the next thing Stiles knew, he was lying on his back on the cold, hard floor of the loft, his right leg still bent and stuck on the sofa under Derek’s hold; his left lying across the Alpha’s feet.

“What the fuck you guys?” Erica screeched out, her shock now replaced with some measure of anger. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us you guys were together?” She demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

“We wanted to keep it a secret.” Derek replied calmly, ignoring Stiles collapsing back on the floor in an over-dramatic manner.

“Why?” Erica whined, cherry red lips pushing out into a pout.

“Because sometimes it’s nice to not have your entire family all up in your business straight away.” Stiles grouched. He missed Erica sticking her tongue at him childishly.

“Wait, when did you guys get together? Who else knows? How did it happen? You know what, tell me everything?” She blurted, sauntering into the loft and falling on the opposite end of the sofa.

Stiles whimpered as he dragged his leg out from under Derek’s, resigning his half-hard erection to the void. Derek, on the other hand, let out a half sigh-half growl noise as his head thumped back on the sofa, forever questioning why he decided to turn teenagers again.


	5. Jackson

“Where’s the…thing?” Derek called out, frustration edging his tone. Stiles crossed into the remnants of the old kitchen at the Hale house, his brow furrowing as he watched Derek shuffle through the various tools scattered over the workbench. 

“What thing?” Stiles asked confusedly. 

“You know, the thing.” Derek clarified oh so helpfully, waving his arms about emphatically like that would help Stiles. 

“Der, babe.” Stiles started, chewing on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to stop the smile growing on his lips. It was no use, frustrated Derek was adorable. He crossed his arms and leant his shoulder against the splintering door frame. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles finished. 

They were up at the old Hale house to celebrate Erica’s birthday the next day, and although the house was still falling apart and was in no condition to hold a party anytime soon, the land at the back was more than capable. Derek had been clearing it out for the whole week, and with Lydia’s help, the party had been organised and was ready. Except for the old gazebo they had borrowed from the Sheriff’s department they kept for their fundraisers and functions. It had been damaged badly in storage; one of the wooden stands had almost been broken in two, as well as the fact that it had been missing a few nuts and bolts. Derek, not wanting to waste anymore time on trying to find another gazebo that could fit a large table for the eleven of them, had just decided to build another leg. Which Stiles was all for; because seeing Derek bent over a woodworking table, sawing and sandpapering away whilst in a white tank and his trademark, sinfully tight jeans? It was basically a wet dream. It had been going great – apparently Derek knew a lot about carpentry, something he had revealed the other night to Stiles; about how his father had taught him everything he knew growing up, how they had built most of the porch together, and the large staircase. It helped teach him about control, and patience, and was really therapeutic. So yeah, Derek was almost done with the new leg, he even got it to match the others. It was going great. Until now. 

“It’d help if you stopped moving everything.” Derek grouched under his breath, throwing another tool half-heartedly across the workbench. 

Stiles’ jaw dropped as his entire body froze. He straightened instantly, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang by his sides, hands clenching tightly in his defence. “Me? I haven’t touched anything! I’ve been outside all day finishing up the decorating!” 

“Oh really? Because I have a pretty good memory of you coming in here not half an hour ago and moving stuff.” 

“I put it all back!” 

“I told you not to touch anything in the first place. But you did, as usual. And now I can’t find the fucking handsaw.” Derek gritted out, moving another handful of tools to the other side.

“You mean this one?” Stiles asked as he crossed to the table the leg was lying on, the handsaw resting on the top for all to see. Derek whipped his head around to look at Stiles; his features going from confused to anger, to amazement and then back to anger again. 

“You hid it!” Derek accused as he stepped over, almost snatching the handsaw out of Stiles’ grasp. 

“Seriously? Seriously?” Stiles laughed, almost doubling over. “You’re like a five year old, you know that?” 

“You moved it!” 

“Oh so now I moved it? Five seconds ago I hid it!” Stiles teased in between wheezes of laughter. 

“You guys fight like a married couple, you know that?” Jackson asked nonchalantly as he stepped through the back door and into the kitchen, drawing both their attention to him. He’d been roped into helping out in the garden, or rather, had volunteered instead of joining Lydia to get the food. 

“We’re not married yet.” Stiles replied casually, winking at Derek who had simply raised his eyebrow at the statement.

Jackson, who had just taken a swig of his soda, promptly choked at the words. Stiles leaned into Derek and hid his chuckles into the Alpha’s shoulders, letting one hand wrap around the small of Derek’s back. Derek relaxed into Stiles, tilting his head just slightly until his nose rested on Stiles’ temple, his own arm instantly draping itself around his lithe frame, keeping him close. 

“Wh-what? You guys are - ?” Jackson coughed out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He continued at Derek’s subtle nod. “Huh. Finally.” He muttered, before walking out without another word. 

Stiles instantly flinched at the words, removing his head from Derek’s shoulder and twisting around to yell at Jackson’s retreating form. “Wait, what? What was that meant to mean? Jackson! Get back here! Asshole.” Stiles huffed as the beta simply ignored him, continuing to disappear towards the tree line. He looked up at Derek, the fond smile he had been throwing Stiles’ way disappearing in lieu of feigned annoyance. 

“Stop touching my stuff.” Derek ordered. 

Stiles plastered on a large, innocent smile, biting the corner of his bottom lip teasingly as he leant into Derek, his right hand coming up to cup his face. “But where’s the fun in that?” Stiles teased as his lips brushed Derek’s, warm breath coasting over his skin. Derek growled and dropped the handsaw with a clatter, effortlessly picking Stiles up and perching him on the nearest counter, proceeding to knock everything off as the werewolf devoured his mate hungrily. 

From outside, they could vaguely hear the sound of Jackson gagging, followed shortly by the crash of an empty table being knocked over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun little tidbit that I forgot to mention at the end of the Sheriff's chapter: the guy Isaac threw into Coach that Stiles was telling Derek about at the beginning, was Greenberg. Trust me to forget to mention that!
> 
> Again, thank you for all the comments and bookmarks and kudos! You have no idea how much they mean to me!


	6. Melissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks - I know I say this with every chapter, but you really have no idea how much it all means to me. So thank you guys, if I could bake you all cupcakes and cookies I would, so have some hypothetical ones on me instead!
> 
> And here's another chapter. For some reason I really love this one, protective!Derek and hurt!Stiles makes my insides go all fluffy, so of course I had to write one...or two.

Derek ran through the automatic doors of the hospital, not even bothering to slow down as he barged his way through the crowds of staff and patients. He ignored the nurse at the station yelling at him, his focus completely on the familiar heartbeat two floors up and at the other end of the building, picking up in a slight panic. He headed straight for the fire escape, bypassing the elevator, and shouldered his way through the heavy door. The sound of his boots on the concrete steps echoed loudly through the empty staircase, every beat a match to his racing heart.

He threw the fire door open on the third floor, picking his pace back up, darting in and out of patients and growling low under his breath. If he had been paying more attention to his surroundings he would have noticed the odd looks people were giving him, or more specifically, his eyes. He continued to follow the heartbeat that reverberated in his ears around a corner, his boots almost slipping on the shiny floor out from underneath him. He vaguely heard a familiar voice call out his name from the other end of the corridor, _Melissa_ , his mind helpfully supplied in a singular moment of clarity; but the thought was quickly pushed aside as a door almost at the end of the corridor opened up, a familiar scent wafting out after the exiting doctor.

He ran down the last of the corridor, throwing the door open wide so forcefully it banged hard against the wall. His eyes fell on Stiles immediately, sitting cross-legged on a hospital bed, his own eyes wide at Derek’s sudden appearance.

“Hey Der-” Stiles’ strained and slightly warbled voice was cut off in a yelp as Derek crossed the room in two large strides. He instantly attached himself to the teenager, bending down just low enough to burrow his nose in the spot behind Stiles’ ear, his large hands gripping Stiles’ hip and the back of his neck; reassuring himself that Stiles was okay, Stiles was alive, Stiles was _talking_.

“Hey big wolf, I’m okay.” Stiles assured, bringing his own hands up, resting one just under Derek’s shoulder blade as the other carded through his hair, soothing the Alpha. It was then that Derek realised just how much he had been shaking.

“Thought I lost you.” Derek mumbled into Stiles’ neck, sounding smaller than he'd felt in a long time.

“You didn’t. I’m okay, just a little bruised.” Stiles replied, turning his head slightly to breathe the words in Derek’s neck, smiling at the gentle scruff of his beard rubbing over his neck.

“You could’ve died.” Derek pushed, his grip on Stiles’ tightening at the realisation.

“But I didn’t.” Stiles answered, a slight teasing edge to his tone. He pushed Derek back, leaving his hands on the wolf’s chest to maintain contact. Reluctantly, Derek let himself stand up, keeping one hand on Stiles’ neck, fingers tangling with the short hairs on his nape. His eyes were still closed, however, the wolf still raving beneath the surface, still aware of Stiles being hurt.

“Open your eyes.” Stiles commanded gently. Derek complied, the light of the hospital room almost blinding. He knew his eyes were bright red, and that if he looked, he’d probably be in his beta-shift, barely holding onto control. “You probably scared the crap out of everyone babe.” Stiles teased, bringing his hands up to Derek’s jaw, smoothing his thumbs over his cheekbones. The wolf relinquished its struggle at the touch; leaving Derek to almost collapse into Stiles’ hold.

“They said you were unconscious when the EMTs arrived.” Derek said, his hands starting to shake again.

“I had a minor concussion.” Stiles answered, attempting to shake it off.

“Stiles, your Dad said you woke up, asked for curly fries, and then threw up. In the ambulance.” Derek explained, his eyebrows raised incredulously. Stiles shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the grin threatening to take over his face.

“Like I said, concussion.” Derek whined in the back of his throat, still not satisfied with Stiles’ current state. He fell forwards, leaning back into Stiles’ neck to breathe him in, his scent there untouched by the smell of medicine and blood circling around the teenager. Stiles chuckled softly, carding his fingers through the back of Derek’s hair again. “I’m okay though, promise. Just a little hazy still.”

“I can smell blood. And anaesthetic.” Derek stated, lips brushing over Stiles’ skin, leaving the boy shivering at the touch.

“Yeah, I cut the back of my head open when I fell.” Stiles explained, his grip in Derek’s hair tightening as the Alpha growled against his skin. “Just a small cut; I only needed five stitches. Nothing serious. I’ve already been patched up, and I’m just waiting to be released.” He added.

“You’re never riding a bike ever again.” Derek demanded, his hand fisting in Stiles’ shirt at the knowledge that this time they had gotten off lucky. It hadn’t even been that bad; Stiles’ jeep had broken down, and with their relationship more or less still a secret, and with the Sheriff working at odd hours of the day, Stiles had chosen to take his old bike to school. Not that he minded, the weather was getting warmer, and it helped with his cardio. Plus he always liked the freedom that came with riding a bike. Sure it wasn’t great, and it was more than a little inconvenient, but it was economically friendly, and free, so it was fine. Or it was, until he’d been clipped by some douche in an SUV on a main road, sending him flying across the road. He’d barely missed being road kill. Luckily the woman on the other side of the rood had just had her brakes checked, and had swerved just in time, blocking the road from any oncoming traffic whilst she called nine-one-one. The driver that hit him had gotten away, but his Dad was on that now.

“Trust me, I don’t intend to.” Stiles muttered, before inhaling deeply, relishing in the muted scent of _Derek_ just under his nose.

“Does someone want to tell me why my patients are raving about a mad-man with red eyes?” A familiar female voice spoke up from the doorway, sounding equal parts amused and put-out.

Both men stilled in each other’s grasp, the realisation of where exactly they were and who was at the door hitting them at the same time. Derek stood back up and pulled away just enough to turn to face Melissa, Stiles peering around Derek’s arm. Melissa was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, and a grin tugging on her lips. She never really was one for punishment, especially with Stiles or Scott.

“Sorry. Lost control a bit there.” Derek replied diminutively, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, the other still wrapped around Stiles’ ribcage, holding him close.

“You think?” Melissa asked rhetorically, trying to scold but missing by a mile. She stepped closer into the room, no longer bothering to fight the grin as she shook her head. “So, you boys want to tell me something?” She asked, looking pointedly at their hands.

“This is a thing. _We_ are a thing.” Stiles answered, hoping it would be enough. Derek huffed and rolled his eyes, but turned to shoot Stiles a soft grin when the teenager pinched his arm.

“Your father know about this?” Melissa asked, reaching out to run a hand through Stiles’ hair, eyes soft in the way only a mother could manage.

“Yeah. He found out the other week. He’s okay with it. I mean, he didn’t shoot Derek, so you know. That’s how I choose to see it.” Stiles shrugged, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Thanks Stiles.” Derek replied dryly, rolling his eyes again. 

"I'm kidding. He'd never. My dad loves you." Stiles replied, poking Derek in the side as his lips curled into a smile at the sight of Derek's ears pinking slightly.

“Well, as long as you two are happy, _and safe_.” She started sternly, smiling smugly as both Derek and Stiles flushed at her words, “and your father’s okay with it, then I’m happy for you two. It’s about time anyway.” She added, rubbing her thumb over Stiles’ forehead calmly.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? Is there something we should know?” Stiles grouched, looking to Derek for backup. The Alpha simply shrugged his shoulders as Melissa chuckled.

“Don’t worry about that. How you feeling?”

“Confused. And a little hazy, I guess. Still got a headache.” Stiles complained quietly. Derek brought a hand up to Stiles’ head, pressing two fingers to his temple to leech some of the pain. Stiles’ body fell lax as some of the pain was taken off, his mouth falling open slightly.

“Well, I’ve got your discharge papers. So I just need you to sign them and then you can go home. Get some rest.” Melissa advised. She started moving to the door, but was cut off by Stiles’ reply.

“Thanks, Melissa.”

“You’re welcome honey. Oh, and I take it I don’t need to remind you not to hurt him?”

“Don’t worry, Dad already gave him the ‘don’t hurt him speech’.” Stiles replied, leaning into Derek’ chest with his eyes closed, relishing in the feel of having him there.

“I was talking to you, Stiles.” She said with a smile. Stiles’ eyes shot open at that, mouth dropping as Melissa winked casually at him, a large grin on her lips as she turned and left the room. Stiles eventually turned his gaze up at Derek, his heart skipping several beats when he caught the soft, purely happy smile on Derek’s lips, as well as the light blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Come on, Curly Fry.” Derek said as soon as he caught Stiles looking at him. The teenager huffed at the choice of name. “Let’s get you home.”


	7. Allison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the love and comments you guys have been giving me and this fic! It really does mean a lot and I love reading everyone's comments, they always make me smile! 
> 
> For some reason I really like this chapter in particular. Who knows why. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I think Allison and Stiles would have had a kick-ass friendship, and I like to think the two of them and Lydia would constantly talk about their werewolf boyfriends. Who knows.

Stiles was sore; and not just the sort of sore that sent an occasional fizz of dull pain over his body, he was full on, all-encompassing ‘everything hurts and it hurts to move and it hurts to breathe but it’s also kind of pleasurable in a weird way sort of sore.’ His whole body was brimming with a dull ache, a constant, painstaking, yet decadent reminder of the night before. Everything was buzzing: his arms, his hips, his back, his legs, hell, it even hurt to move his fingers and toes; but none of that was compared to what his ass was going through. Oh God, his ass. There were no words to describe what was going on down there. He was also pretty sure that half his body (the covered half, thankfully) was decorated with loving bruises and bites, which no matter what he would wear with pride. 

It was Derek’s fault, really. Okay, that was a lie. It wasn’t Derek’s fault at all. It wasn’t his fault that the full moon had been particularly rough last night; it wasn’t Derek’s fault that Stiles was both his mate and his anchor, and that having him near made the full moon easier; and it definitely wasn’t Derek’s fault that everything hurt. Much. The werewolf had pretty much fucked him into the mattress most of the night, but Stiles had fully consented, time and time again, and reassured Derek that he could take it, and he could handle it. So whilst Stiles was in a bit of pain, and it did hurt to move or sit, he was totally fine with it. 

He just kind of wished he had stretched or maybe gotten Derek to give him a massage or something before they’d passed out around two a.m. He’d remember for next time. 

He had managed to find a sort of comfortable position with his upper body collapsed on the desk in front of him in the library, putting as little pressure on his ass as he could. The whole morning had been difficult to get through; from awkwardly climbing into his jeep, to awkwardly climbing out once he was at school, to awkwardly half-waddling to and from classes and ignoring all the weird looks he was getting (not that he was really cared about that, he had had amazing, wonderful, sex last night with a Greek God Alpha werewolf, many times in fact, in many different positions. He would put up with the waddling and the weird stares). He was just thankful that he was finally at his study period and could therefore collapse over the desk without being chastised. 

Abruptly, an unknown person dropped into the seat next to him, and with his head facing the other way, he was unable to figure out who it was, until with a loud, familiar tired huff, the person fell on his back, face tucked in close to his neck, and long hair sprawling everywhere. 

“Please tell me you’re not planning on moving soon, because I need sleep.” Allison moaned as she brought a hand over his back, letting it dangle over the other side comfortably. 

Stiles simply groaned in response, letting his body sink into the table a little bit more to relax, completely unaware of all the weird looks the two of them were receiving. 

“Good.” Allison sighed happily, before falling silent, her quiet breathes curling over the nape of his neck. 

“Rough full moon with Scott?” Stiles asked after clearing his throat, his voice still un-recovered from last night’s activities. 

Allison hummed in affirmation, shifting slightly to make herself more comfortable. 

“I don’t know how you do it Ally. How are you not sore? I swear, I feel even worse than when we’re up all night traipsing through the preserve and running for our lives. Everything hurts, my legs, my arms, even my fingers and toes. You know I could barely pick up my pen this morning? That’s how unresponsive my body is.” Stiles started to ramble, the mixture of pain running through his body and his tiredness finally catching up with him. 

“And it’s not like that was the first time we’ve had rough sex, you know? I mean, I live for rough sex. The whole being manhandled, and Jesus, we’ve literally done it up against a wall, like he’s held me up against a wall and we’ve had sex, and I absolutely love it. But there are parts of me right now that I didn’t know could hurt, and every time I so much as shift the smallest part, it sends whole new waves of pain over my body. Particularly my ass. I know he didn’t mean to hurt me though, that man is literally a puppy personified in private. Not as bad as Scott or Isaac, but Derek’s pretty close. You know one time -.” He was cut off mid-ramble as Allison shot up with a high-pitched squeak; the sudden weight off his back sending his body falling further into the table. He bit back a series of curses - most of which inappropriate for school - as Allison grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him into an upright position, the only noises managing to escape his lips a grumbling moan. She grabbed him by the cheeks and forced him to look at her, all semblance of exhaustion wiped from her face in lieu of shock and confusion. 

“Stiles. What?” She sputtered, her brow furrowing as she seemed to look deeper into Stiles’ eyes. 

“What?” He grouched out, wondering what on earth Allison was talking about. 

“Are you telling me, that you and Derek, are together? Or at least, having sex?” 

Ah. 

Stiles breathed out a heavy sigh, wondering if he could back track and pass it off as a big joke, or maybe pretend that it was some other Derek he was talking about. Allison seemed to take his silence as some form of confirmation however, as the next thing he knew, the left hand collar of his shirt was being pulled down enough to reveal the juncture of his neck, exposing the bright claiming mark so stark against his pale skin. Allison’s eyes widened when she saw the bite, a high-pitched, excitable squeak emanating from the back of her throat involuntarily. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God are you serious?” Allison all but squealed, bringing her hand back up to Stiles’ cheeks, smushing them together until his lips were comically puckered. “He claimed you! Holy crap, you’re his mate! When the hell did this happen? Why didn’t you tell us? Who else knows?” She asked, punctuating each question with a sharp shake of his head. “Oh, sorry.” She muttered with an apologetic smile when Stiles groaned in protestation. 

“I’m his anchor as well. Like you with Scott. And, maybe six months ago, ish. We wanted to keep it quiet for a while, didn’t want everyone up in our grill straight away, although now it’s kind of turned into this little competition of ‘who finds out next’. And, everyone knows, well, except Scott, and Boyd, and Peter, but are we really counting him? My Dad knows though, so that’s something.” Stiles shrugged, rambling through her questions. 

“How could you not tell us? And finally, by the way, we were kind of getting sick of the two of you dancing around each other and undressing each other with your eyes. The UST was getting unbearable.” 

“So we’ve been told.” Stiles grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

Allison simply stuck her tongue out in reply as she finally released her death grip on his face, but not before pinching his cheeks a little. “You serious about him not hurting you though, yeah?” She asked after a minute, a look of concern clear across her features. 

“Yeah, Ally, I’m serious. The guy is literally a giant teddy bear. Just, don’t tell him I said that.” 

“And you’re happy?”

“Yeah, really, really, unbelievably happy.” Stiles replied with a soft smile, the memory of waking tangled up in Derek’s arms and legs flashing through his mind. 

“Good, then I’m happy for you.” Allison finished, smacking a loud kiss to his cheek. 

“Scott’s going to kill me when he finds out.” 

“You might be married before then.” Allison replied, earning a hoarse chuckle from Stiles. 

Poor Scott, but she had a point, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwh I've just realised I'm over half-way through posting this fic! That's made me kinda sad!
> 
> Let you guys in on a little secret, I've written a sort of companion piece to this, except everyone thinks Stiles and Derek are together when they're actually not. It was basically another excuse for me to write more fluff, because those boys deserve fluffiness, and I'm going to damn well give it to them. I'm thinking about putting it up after this. Maybe.


	8. Boyd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, four chapters left! I know it was only twelve chapters, but it's gone so quickly! I've decided to upload my sort of companion fic to this once this has finished, so look out for that too. It's aptly titled "We're Not Dating!" That might have some clue as it what it's about. 
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for the comments and the kudos and the bookmarks, you really do have no idea how much it all means to me! 
> 
> This one is dialogue-heavy, but you'll see why when you read it!

“So, when were you planning on telling me there were Hellhounds in Beacon Hills?” Stiles called out as he sauntered into the loft, a fake air of happiness surrounding him. Derek glanced up from the book on the table, one eyebrow raised as he watched Stiles stalk forward.

“How did you find out?” Derek asked, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Scott can’t keep a secret. Also, he just figured I knew. So, what’s the plan?”

“Stiles.” Derek sighed out. “You’re not going.”

“What? Why not?” Stiles asked incredulously, waving his hands about.

“Stiles, I’m not arguing this with you. You’re not going.”

“Tough. I am. Why aren’t I going? Everyone else is!”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Bullshit Derek. It’s always too dangerous and you’ve never not let me go. Why now? Why won’t you let me go?” Stiles yelled, his heart beat rising rapidly as anger seeped into scent, quickly becoming overpowering and choking to the Alpha.

“Goddamnit Stiles, I can’t lose you!” Derek roared as he slammed his fist down on the table, eyes flashing red. Stiles visibly jumped at the outburst, eyes widening as he swallowed hard.

“Derek…” Stiles choked out, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m serious, Stiles. It’s too dangerous. Do you know what Hellhounds are?”

“They’re like demonic pit-bulls, like bad omens…” Stiles started, brow furrowing slightly.

“They’re heralds of death, they’re fast, phantom like and strong, stronger than me.” Derek explained bluntly.

“All the more reason for me to come with you guys.”

“No.” Derek growled out quickly.

“Derek - ”

“For fucks sake Stiles I said no!” Derek yelled, his voice rising once more. “It’s too dangerous and I can’t run the risk of you getting hurt! I can’t lose you, Stiles. Not after everything.”

“You can’t just expect me to sit here and wait for you with my thumbs up my ass!”

“That’s exactly what I expect you to do!”

“God, Derek I’m not some pathetic, weak human that you can keep at home!”

“Don’t you think I know that Stiles? I’m not trying to push you out, I’m trying to keep you safe!”

“Well, what about you? Why can’t I keep you safe?”

“I can heal!”

“So, what, because you’re genetically advanced - ”

“Stiles, you know that’s not what this is about! I need to keep you safe!” Derek shouted, his own hands starting to shake. He ran a hand over his face tiredly as he let out a loud and heavy sigh. “Just…please.” Derek pleaded with a whisper. Stiles exhaled noisily, his breathing ragged, scent laced with exhaustion, the last hints of anger quickly tapering off.

“You and me, we are gonna have a long talk later when you get back.” Stiles muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Derek’s shoulders dropped visibly at Stiles’ concurrence, relief flooding through him. He stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around Stiles’, dipping his nose into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and nuzzling his jaw. He hummed in approval as Stiles tipped his neck to the side, giving Derek access as he fisted the Alpha’s Henley.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Derek said into Stiles’ shoulder, lips brushing over his pale skin, sending shivers over his lithe body.

“You owe me.” Derek hummed with a soft smile, tilting Stiles’ head back to meet his.

Derek breathed him in before their lips met, roving over each other hungrily. Stiles brought his hands up to Derek’s neck, pulling him even closer as he deepened the kiss, like he was desperate for Derek. Derek pulled away regretfully after a minute, heart beating raggedly and breaths coming out in huffs. Stiles’ pupils were blown wide and dark with lust, his cheeks splotchy and flushed. His lips were deliciously swollen, tempting Derek with every curl of breath that came out. “Three hours. I’ll check in when I can.” Derek whispered softly, nuzzling the scruff of his beard against Stiles’ soft cheek.

“You better. Or I’m going to shove so much wolfsbane up your ass…”

Derek huffed out a laugh before replying, “Stay here, please.”

Stiles nodded in assent, long fingers disentangling from Derek’s shirt as he ducked in for a quick kiss. Derek grudgingly pulled away from Stiles, leaving him standing in the middle of the scarcely furnished loft alone. He shut the heavy door behind him, wondering briefly if it would be a step too far if he locked the door in a vain attempt to keep Stiles safe, but he knew that Stiles would rip him a new one if he did. He hoped Stiles would listen to him for once, stay out of it, stay _safe_. Still, a niggling part of him at the back of his mind told him Stiles would be there, running in at the last moment, baseball bat in hand. Derek made a silent vow to protect him at all costs, Stiles' anger afterwards be damned. There was no way he was letting Stiles get hurt.

By the time he got down the stairs and out the building, Boyd was leaning against the Camaro, arms and ankles crossed. He raised an eyebrow as Derek approached, a familiar smirk playing across his lips.

“So, does this mean Stiles is our pack mom?” Boyd teased as he pushed away from the car. With the argument and Stiles’ scent still surrounding him, the memory of his lips tracing over his had clouded over Derek’s brain, he briefly forgot that not only had Boyd been in the loft when Stiles had walked in, but also hadn’t known until now about their relationship. And by the teasing glint in his eyes, Derek knew that Boyd had most definitely heard their entire argument.

“Say that to him and he’ll kill you.”

“Might be worth it.” Boyd joked with a shrug as he followed Derek and climbed into the car.


	9. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, you guys are all so lovely with the comments and the kudos and the bookmarks!! They really do mean so much to me! 
> 
> Here's another chapter!!

Stiles breathed out a sharp sigh of relief as he cut off the engine of the jeep and collapsed back against the seat. It was finally a Friday, and remarkably, the whole pack had plans. Erica and Boyd were on a date, Scott, Allison, Jackson and Lydia were on a double date, and Isaac was volunteering at the clinic with Deaton. Stiles, on the other hand, also had plans. Plans involving the stack of pizza on the passenger seat next to him, his laptop, and his grumpy Alpha boyfriend. Date night; and after the weekend he had had, he definitely deserved it.

They had cleaned up the pixie problem at the end of last weekend, and Stiles had been playing catch up for the rest of the week with his homework and lacrosse practice, leaving basically no time for Derek. He deserved this night in. They both did. And with the rest of the pack already busy, Stiles was going to make sure that no minute was wasted.

He all but fell out of the jeep, throwing his overnight bag over his shoulder before grabbing the pizza and the bag of sweets and soft drinks, barely managing to not drop them. The way up to the loft was quiet, like always, but took longer than normal with his baggage. Even so, he was a little surprised, and perhaps a tiny bit disheartened when he found the loft door closed. Which was strange, because usually when Derek hears Stiles coming up and he knows he’s carrying stuff, he always waits outside the loft. And Stiles knows that Derek is there, because the Camaro is parked outside. Pushing aside the thought, Stiles rolled the unlocked door open and stepped in, not even bothering to look up.

“Okay, Honeywolf, I got enough pizza to send us into a happy coma, drinks, sweets for me, and you are not the wolf I’m looking for.” Stiles tapered off as he looked up from the floor.

Peter was sitting on the smaller of the two couches in the centre of the loft facing the door, a smug smirk plastered neatly on his face as he considered Stiles.

“Stiles. How nice to see you.” Peter greeted, almost mockingly as he relaxed back into the chair. “How have you been?”

“Bite me Psychowolf.” Stiles replied, barely holding back the urge to give him the finger, or even worse, stick out his tongue.

“Snarky, as usually. Glad to see you haven’t changed.” Stiles rolled his eyes over-dramatically, groaning in protest at having to deal with Peter. For a brief moment he considered closing the door behind him to give him something to do, but quickly decided against it. If something were to happen, he’d like the chance to escape, and having the door open kept that chance higher.

“Well, I can’t disappoint you now, can I?” He answered instead, raising one eyebrow as the corner of his lips tugged up into a shit-eating grin.

“Nice to know I’m in your thoughts. Is that pizza for me? Stiles, how nice of you.” Peter gestured to the stack of cardboard boxes in Stiles’ hand. Even though he hadn’t made any move towards Stiles, the teenager still reflexively pulled the pizza back, like he was trying to protect the food from the former Alpha.

“What are you even doing here?” He asked, trying hard not to bristle or flinch at the predatory grin on Peter’s face.

“Am I not allowed to spend time with my nephew’s pack? What has this world come to?”

“Hopefully a world in which you’re no longer in.” Stiles bit back, fingers itching to move or do something.

“Cute. Very cute.” Peter considered sarcastically.

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the familiar drag of quick, heavy footsteps on the hallway outside the loft. He turned his head just as Derek rounded the door, concern written plainly across his face as his eyes took Stiles in, quickly checking to make sure he was alright. He glanced rapidly between Stiles and Peter once he was assured that Stiles was alright, his eyebrows raised as his brow furrowed incredulously. Stiles’ smirk had softened and his body had relaxed almost as soon as Derek had stepped into the loft, just knowing that the Alpha was next to him making him feel safer.

“Ah, Derek. There you are. Stiles and I were just talking.” Peter said casually as he stood up, linking his hands together behind his back.

Derek hummed in consideration as he stepped in front of Stiles protectively, his fingers flexing in alertness.

“Oh relax. I’m not a psychopath anymore. Well, not much of one anyway.” Peter stated with a familiar roll of his eyes.

“Not helping your case.” Stiles piped up from behind Derek, unable to hold back the comment. He stuck out his tongue at Derek as the werewolf glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in a familiar _‘Shut up, Stiles’._

“As I was saying,” Peter started, looking pointedly at Stiles over Derek’s shoulder. Stiles simply rolled his eyes, but kept quiet. “I’m not a psychopath. I’m not going to hurt Stiles, he’s pack. And more importantly, he’s your mate. I’m happy for you Derek.” Peter finished sincerely, a soft, familial look in his eyes that startled Derek, reminding him of the young werewolf he once was before the fire.

“You knew?” Stiles asked, his eyes narrowing.

“It was pretty obvious. And it was about time. Although I’m guessing not everyone knows? Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret.” Peter replied with a smirk as he moved across the loft. He slapped Derek on the shoulder as he passed, tipping his head in acknowledgement to Stiles that left the teenager shivering. No matter what, he still didn’t like the werewolf.

Stiles waited until Peter had closed the door behind him, his lips spreading out into a smile as Derek turned around, reminding himself that their date night could begin. Stiles held up the pizza as the smile turned into a grin, eyes glinting as he said, “Pizza?”


	10. Cora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honest to God, thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all the love and comments and kudos and bookmarks this fic has gotten. Not going to lie, I never give my work out to read to anyone because no one I know reads or even writes fanfiction, and sadly it's sort of looked down upon by my family. So to have people even just reading this, let alone bookmarking or giving kudos and leaving lovely comments is such a big deal for me, and you really have no idea how much it all means.
> 
> Enough sappiness from me. Here's another chapter. I really loved writing this one!

Derek could no longer deny it: it was time. It had been a long time coming, of that much he was sure, but with the pack finally at peace, and Derek slowly healing from the memories of the past, sometimes even going weeks without a nightmare, it now seemed like the best time. Even more so since Cora had come back for a visit. They sat next to each other on the floor of the empty loft mid-afternoon one Saturday, a time when they were guaranteed to not be disturbed by any other member of the pack, both silent as they contemplated the item before them. The chest was a monster, six feet long, three feet deep and two foot wide, needing both their combined strengths to even lift it. It was made of dark oak, heavy and thick, with dark metal hinges and corner covers. The wood was scarred black by the fire, and the smell of smoke and ash hung heavy in the air of the loft, choking Derek with memories of his world burning.

With a simple glance at Cora, they unlocked one latch each, the brash click of the locks echoing in the silent loft, disturbing the hollow peace of remembrance. They lifted the lid carefully, the sturdy hinges worn and damaged with time and fire. Derek bit back the whine as the scent of _family_ , of _home_ hit him full force, unmarred by the overwhelming stench of smoke, as he looked down at the plethora of items encased within. Mementos and remnants salvaged by Laura and him after the fire, before they had fled to New York. Anything they had found that hadn’t been completely destroyed by the fire was taken and stashed away in the old chest, an heirloom in and of itself hidden in the vault. The odd photo album, the cover dusted with ash, the corners blackened by fire was at the top, the triskele carved into the front; his father’s first edition of The Hobbit, hidden in the nightstand in his parents room. His mothers jewellery box, filled with family heirlooms, wedding bands from generations passed; a collection of drawings done by his five year old cousin Alex, drawings of the old Hale house and their family standing in front of it, drawings of the preserve with the full moon shining down; report cards from school from his eleven year old cousin Sarah; a broken photo frame with a yellowed photo of his family – his parents, Laura, Cora and he standing out on the porch of the house, dressed to the nines for his parents wedding anniversary. Each item both he and Cora carefully took from chest, examining each in silence for a minute before placing it on the floor next to them.

It hurt, to go through the chest, knowing that its contents were all the personal items they had left of their family: eight lives boiled down to an old wooden box. Yet he also knew that he needed to do it, needed to confront the past if he wanted to heal, heal more than he had done in almost ten years. Besides, he was looking for something.

He found what he was looking for in a non-descript jewellery box near the bottom of the chest, simple and elegant in design, yet functional. Cora stopped what she was doing, examining an old school project of hers, and watched Derek take out the small box, holding it reverently in his hands. He opened it carefully, not wanting to drop its meager contents from his shaking hands.

“Is that…?” Cora whispered, awe evident in her voice as she edged closer, wanting to get a better look.

“Mom and dad’s wedding bands.” Derek answered, picking both rings up and bringing them closer to his face for inspection. The bands were titanium, flat and wide, non-descript and plain except for the red inlay in the middle. The triskele was again etched inside, but apart from that they were simple, nothing remotely masculine or feminine about them, equals in design, like his parents were in life. They were marred slightly by time, but with a little cleaning they would be back to their original design. He slid on his father’s ring, slightly wider than his mother’s, and was pleased to find it slipped on and off his finger cleanly, not getting stuck or sliding off. His mother’s was a little thinner, and a fair bit smaller, so he would have to get that stretched to the right size, but it would be perfect. He smiled, for the first time that afternoon, as he dropped the rings back into the box and put it to the side, further away from everything else. Cora never noticed, having returned to the dusty photo album.

Derek slid into Stiles’ bedroom through the window late at night the next week, even though he had a free, standing invitation to use the front door. Old habits die hard. Stiles glanced up from where he was sitting at the top of the bed, back leaning against the head board, laptop open on his lap. He smiled at the Alpha, fond and happy as he scooted over just enough for Derek to sit down next to him. Silently, Derek toed off his boots and slipped off his jacket, leaving them neatly by Stiles’ desk chair, before sitting on the other end of the bed, one leg bent and resting under the other so he could face Stiles. The teenager’s smile slipped, brow furrowing in concern as he watched Derek, waiting patiently.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked as he closed his laptop and dropped it on the floor next to the bed, sitting up properly. His fingers twitched in his lap, like he was itching to touch Derek, but was unsure if the action was welcome.

Derek instantly chastised himself, knowing that his silence would be taken the wrong way, and instead reached forward and grabbed Stiles’ hands, squeezing them in his. Stiles’ heart beat slowed at the gesture, the worry in his scent leeching away second by second.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just…I have something for you.” Derek muttered, running his thumb pad across Stiles’ knuckles. Stiles eyebrow rose as his brow furrowed, an action Derek was all too familiar with. He released one of Stiles’ hands and slipped his into the pocket of his jeans, drawing out the small jewellery box. A small noise of confusion and surprise escaped out of Stiles’ throat, involuntarily, Derek guessed, if the quick flush of his cheeks was anything to go by.

“Derek…” Stiles started as Derek held out the box towards the teenager, urging him to take it. Stiles did so, removing his other hand from Derek’s hold so he could open the box. He gasped quietly as he looked down at the cleaned pair of rings standing in the blue velvet padding of the box, shining brightly in the artificial glow of his bedroom light.

“Cora and I went through the chest we kept in the vault, of our family’s stuff. They were my parent’s wedding bands.” Derek explained, watching as Stiles carefully lifted one – his father’s – and inspected it closely, lips tugging up at the corner as he spotted the triskele inside.

“Red for Alpha, right?”

Derek nodded, taking his mother’s ring out of the box. He kept his gaze on it as he considered his next words carefully. “It’s not a proposal. Even though we’re mated, you’re still young, and I didn’t want to put that pressure on you. Besides, your father might kill me if we get engaged before you go to college.” Derek huffed, twirling the ring around in his fingers, the light glinting off the clean band repetitively.

“They’re for us?” Stiles gasped, eyes widening as his head shot up to look at Derek. The surprise in his scent was muted, however, giving Derek the assumption that Stiles knew where this was going all along. Not that it was a surprise, Stiles was smart, after all.

“Think of it like a promise. To each other. That we’ll always be there for each other, no matter what. A reminder of what we have when things turn to shit.”

“Yes.” Stiles breathed out quickly, making Derek finally look up at him in question, wondering if Stiles was saying yes to what he thought he was saying yes to, wondering if Stiles knew for sure, wondering if… “Yes, dude, of course I’ll keep it as a promise. To you.”

“Really?” Derek made himself ask, pushing down the need to claim surging beneath his skin.

“Yes, Derek. I’m your mate. And I totally agree, I’m way too young to get engaged in human terms. But this is like a promise before the promise. So yes, Derek. Of course I’ll half get engaged to you.”

Derek relaxed completely at the words, even though he knew Stiles would agree. He surged forwards and captured Stiles’ smile-wide lips in a passionate kiss, chest rumbling as Stiles carded a hand through his hair, pouring all his love and promises into the kiss. He pulled away after a minute reluctantly, turning back to the half-discarded box on the bed. He pulled out the padding to reveal two simple chains underneath, matching silver and long enough to hide under the collar of a shirt.

“Your father will kill me if he sees a ring on your finger.” Derek said in lieu of explaining, slipping his mother’s ring through the chain, before clasping it shut. He slipped it over Stiles’ neck, the ring hanging just over his sternum. Stiles did the same, slipping his father’s ring onto the chain before slipping it over Derek’s neck, the chain slightly shorter on him than it was on Stiles. Derek barely had a chance to admire the way the necklaces dangled from their necks before he found himself with a lap full of Stiles, kissing him hard and passionately as they tumbled back on the bed in a mass of limbs and laughter.

Stiles sat on the couch in the loft, absentmindedly playing with the ring around his neck as he read from the pages of the old tome Derek had pulled out the vault. Derek and Cora were in the kitchen making dinner, chatting away happily and freely in a way Stiles had never heard them do before. It was a testament to how far they had come, how much they had both healed and repaired their relationship that they could be in the same kitchen without hurting each other. He was so engrossed in his prideful thoughts of how far Derek had come since they met that he barely noticed Cora coming up to the couch, freezing, and then slamming her dinner plate down on the table loudly. The noise jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked up just in time to see Cora rounding on Derek.

“Why does Stiles have mom’s ring?” Cora yelled as Derek stepped out the kitchen area, brow furrowed in confusion at the commotion. A flurry of looks passed over Derek’s face; confusion, awareness, and then finally resignation.

“Because I gave it to him.” Derek stated matter-of-factly, in a tone that Stiles was all too familiar with; his _“you’re an idiot”_ tone.

“What? Why?” Cora exclaimed. Stiles snorted as Derek simply raised an eyebrow at his younger sister, waiting for Cora to understand. “Wait a minute.” She muttered, lunging forward and grabbing Derek by his shirt. She pulled the left side of his collar and tugged it down, grasping at the silver chain standing stark against his tanned skin. Once it was in her grasp she tugged it out from underneath his shirt, taking their father’s ring in her hand and checking to make sure that it was in fact what she thought it was. “Holy shit. You. And him? You two?” She stuttered out, glancing between Derek and Stiles behind her, eyes wide as she tried to process this new information. “Seriously? You guys are mated? Since when? Tell me everything!” She demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the two of them.

From over her shoulder, Stiles’ honey brown eyes fell on Derek’s, one eyebrow raised and lips tugging up into a smirk in a way that Derek knew meant _“your turn”_.


	11. Chris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter! :( Sad times. I love these last two chapters, for various reasons. This one holds a special place in my heart purely for the way Derek wakes up, I don't know, I had the image stuck in my head for like a week straight when I was writing this, and of course it made me happy to make him happy. 
> 
> As always, thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos and bookmarks and even just the hits, the response to this fic has been making me smile all week, so cookies and cupcakes to all of you! :)

Derek groaned as he woke up, the morning sunlight warm and bright against his face. He stretched his back out before rolling over to his side, not even bothering to open his eyes as he followed the familiar scent of Stiles next to him. He tracked his hand under the bed sheets as his body followed, snaking its way over Stiles’ hip and along his outstretched arm, fingers scratching lightly over the hairs on his arm. 

The teenager hummed as Derek curled up against him, fitting their bodies together until they were one long line of heat, their naked bodies flush against each other. Derek dipped his head down until his nose was pressing against the patch of skin behind Stiles’ ear, breathing in hisalmost unadulterated scent, laced only slightly with a hint of sleep as he intertwined their fingers.

“Morning Sleepywolf.” Stiles mumbled into the pillow, nestling his body back even further into Derek’s, wrapping himself up tighter in the Alpha’s body heat. 

Derek huffed into Stiles’ skin, too engrossed with the scent of Stiles all around him to talk. He loved mornings like this, mornings where he could curl up with Stiles, revel in the feel of him close, his scent lingering under his nose; mornings where there was no rush, no emergencies, no needing to get out the loft on time; mornings where they could just relax together. 

He brushed his lips over Stiles’ neck slowly, smirking at the full body shudder that racked the teenager, a whisper of a moan escaping his lips as his body rocked against the werewolf’s. Derek nipped at the skin as Stiles’ ass brushed over his cock, already hardening under the new attention. He finally opened his eyes as he disentangled himself from Stiles’ hold, barely holding back the urge to roll his eyes at Stiles’ whimper. Instead, he rolled Stiles onto his back, moving his left arm to the side so it wouldn’t be trapped between their bodies, before settling over Stiles. 

Stiles smirked when he realised what Derek was doing, opening his legs up wider for the Alpha to settle into properly, eyes glinting mischievously in the morning sun. Derek lent down and captured Stiles’ lips in a searing kiss, tongue darting into his mouth as Stiles gasped, dancing and mapping every inch inside hungrily. He rumbled as Stiles carded his hands through his hair, pulling on the dark strands ever so slightly, each movement accompanied by a soft whimper or a heady moan. 

Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist as the kiss deepened, both of them clutching desperately to each other like they were a life-line. Derek groaned low in his throat at the increased friction between their cocks, giving into the need to rut against his mate, his wolf howling at the noises coming out of Stiles wantonly. 

“Fuck.” Stiles breathed out as soon as Derek pulled away, dipping his head down to Stiles’ neck, nipping and laving at the pale skin, marking it up until the skin was red from his beard and his scent was properly embedded. Derek felt Stiles’ legs tighten around his waist as he dropped a hand to the teenager’s hips, lifting his lower body up just enough to increase the friction, causing Stiles to whimper. 

From the edges of his hearing, Derek heard a car door slam shut outside, followed by the creak of the heavy outer door to the building opening and closing. He stilled his frantic rutting as he extended his senses, listening for the sound of their visitor ascending. From beneath him, Stiles bucked and whimpered, shamelessly desperate for the contact. Derek could barely keep his focus, looking down at Stiles spread out beneath him, writhing against the sheets for Derek, pale skin marked red from his ministrations. His wolf howled deep within, urging him to forget about the visitor and to claim his mate, to mark him, to fill him up until every wolf in the state knew who he belonged too. 

“Derek.” Stiles whined, blunt fingernails digging into Derek’s shoulder blades, trying to draw him back in. At the same time, Derek picked up the trace of a familiar scent, and his heart fell at the knowledge that he would have to leave the bed, leave his mate. 

“Someone’s coming up.” Derek replied, one hand finding its way back to cup Stiles’ cheek, the pad of his thumb roving over the swollen pink lips. 

Stiles nipped at it playfully, the tease making Derek’s eyes flash red briefly, before he replied, “Pack?”

Derek shook his head, clearing his mind off all dirty thoughts. “It’s Argent.” 

Stiles sighed heavily, letting go of Derek’s shoulders as he collapsed against the pillow, his legs falling away at the same time. Derek bit down on the inside of his cheek at the rush of air filling into Stiles’ previously occupied space, wanting desperately to wrap himself up in Stiles instead. “Yet another reason to hate him. Cockblocker.” Stiles murmured teasingly. 

Derek rolled his eyes as he kissed Stiles’ cheek. “He saved your life last week.”

“And now he’s cockblocking me. Ugh.” Stiles grunted, no real heat behind his words. 

Derek lent back down to Stiles’ ear, nipping at the lobe before worrying at it with his teeth, the hot curl of his breath sending another set of shivers and soft whimpers out of Stiles. 

“When he’s gone, I’m going to take you so hard; you’ll feel sore even just lying down.” He promised, letting his fingers graze teasingly over Stiles’ hipbones. Stiles groaned at the words, neck arching up slightly as pre-come leaked from his cock and onto his stomach. Derek licked up the lobe of Stiles’ ear before leaning back over Stiles, smug smirk plastered firmly over his lips, knowing exactly what effect the words had had on Stiles. Instead of saying anything, however, he simply kissed Stiles once more, lovingly, before clambering out of bed. 

Stiles grunted as he fell back onto the bed, watching without even lifting his head as Derek padded over to the dresser in the corner of the room. He licked his lips and felt his cock harden even more as he watched Derek pull out a pair of sweatpants and slip into them, his thigh muscles clenching and unclenching with the balance, round ass disappearing behind the cloth. He moaned involuntarily, flushing when Derek turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised questioningly as his lips pulled into a smirk. 

“Shut up and answer the door.” Stiles grumbled, tucking himself back into the covers. 

Derek rolled his eyes, but left the bedroom anyway, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. By the time he got across the loft and to the door, Chris had knocked on the door, a formality, seeing as he knew Derek would have heard him coming up long before hand. 

“Derek. Sorry to bother you, but there something you should see.” Chris said as soon as Derek opened the door, gesturing to the manila folder in his hand. Derek nodded and stepped aside, closing the door behind him as he followed Chris further into the loft, heading straight for the long table at the back of the open space. Chris opened up the folder and pulled out its contents: a stack of photos, clean and clear, and handed them to Derek. 

“They were old acquaintances of mine. I got a call asking for help from one of them yesterday afternoon. By the time I got out to them, this was all that was left.” He gestured to the photo Derek was looking at: three bodies, lying on the ground, mangled and torn apart by something powerful, something feral. The skin on their faces was pulled apart, so much so identifying them would be almost impossible. One had his limbs at odd angles, ripped apart at the joint, white bone sticking out against the dark of the photo. Derek’s stomach curled as his mind raced with possibilities of what this could be, the sudden urge to protect his pack, protect Stiles overwhelming him. 

As if on cue, he heard Stiles stumble out of bed, no doubt having gotten restless and bored of waiting. He tracked Stiles’ movements upstairs, watching out of the corner of his eye for any reaction from the hunter standing next to him. As soon as Stiles made an appearance on the stairs, Chris jerked his head up, jaw dropping slightly and eyes widening as he watched the teenager approach, making Derek smirk slightly. 

Stiles stepped up to them, dressed in a pair of Derek’s old sweatpants and one of his t-shirts, and peered over Derek’s side at the photos, seemingly unbothered by the gory contents. 

“Might be a hellhound? Or a Hellcat? At a stretch, a Harpy?” Stiles said instantly, taking the stack of photos from Derek. Derek had to restrain the desire to puff out his chest and preen proudly at his mate’s extensive knowledge. 

“I was going to go with Grimlock.” Derek added instead. Stiles hummed and tilted his head to the side in consideration. 

“I’d have to double check, but it could be. Mind if I take these?” Stiles asked, looking up at Chris, who had stayed silent in surprise since Stiles’ arrival. Stiles’ raised an eyebrow as Chris forced his jaw shut with a click, his mind still working through what he was seeing. It wasn’t like they were trying to hide it. 

“Of course not.” Chris said eventually, forcing out a smile at the teenager. “Let me know what you find.” He added, tipping his head in acknowledgement of the two as he rounded the corner and headed for the door. Half way there however, he stopped and turned around. “Does your father know?” He asked, pointing to the two men who had turned to watch him go. 

“Yeah, found out a while ago. He’s totally fine with it, so you know.” Stiles shrugged, leaning in closer to Derek subconsciously.

“Ah. Okay then.” Chris said after a moment, shaking his head before he continued his exit. Once the door was shut behind him, Derek turned to face Stiles, eyes flashing red devilishly. 

“Run.” He growled out, revelling in the aroused yelp that escaped Stiles’ lips. He gave him a few seconds head start and watched as Stiles ran to the stairs, shucking his t-shirt and trying to pull his sweatpants off at the same time, before giving chase.


	12. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you guys, last chapter! I'm kinda sad now!
> 
> I seriously have no words. You guys have actually made me speechless with the amount of love you've given me and this fic over the last week. It means so much to me. I genuinely didn't think it'd get anywhere near the response it did, and it's made me so happy. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. 
> 
> And it just goes to show that the Sterek fandom really is going strong. 
> 
> And now: for a little bit of smut. Because I had to. Sorry Scott! It was the only way!

Stiles let out a whimper as the tip of Derek’s cock pushed into his rim, his legs trembling as he held himself up above the Alpha, trying to take it slowly. Beneath him, Derek punched out a breath of hot hair, his fingers flexing into the top of Stiles’ thighs as he massaged the pale flesh. His eyes were flickering between red and his own green colour, trying desperately to retain control of his wolf. Stiles knew he was holding back the urge to just push into him, to take him, claim him. Just the fact that Stiles was in control of the two of them here was turning him on even more.

Stiles lowered himself slowly, constantly reminding himself to breath in between moans. His fingers dug into Derek’s shoulders as he felt the burn of the stretch, his focus all but narrowing to the single point of contact connecting them.

Stiles breathed out a sigh of relief, of wanton _pleasure_ as he lowered himself fully onto Derek’s cock. A rush of feeling at _home_ suddenly overcome him, like this was where he wanted to be for the rest of time, like this was where he felt the safest. He tipped his head back and released a deep, guttural and filthy moan as he shifted slightly in Derek’s lap, his cock just brushing up against his prostate.

The groan tapered off into a pleasured yelp as he felt Derek surge upwards, holding him steady as they shifted with the movement. Within seconds, Derek’s mouth was affixed to the nape of Stiles’ neck, tongue licking and laving over the pale skin, soft lips roving and stubble brushing over and over his neck in a familiar pattern. Stiles’ long fingers moved up from Derek’s broad shoulders to the back of his head, letting them tangle in the short, fluffy strands of black hair, tugging every so slightly. Stiles tipped his head to the side, baring more of his throat for the Alpha, moaning as Derek sucked the mother of all hickeys into his neck.

“Derek…” Stiles breathed out, his mouth dry and tongue heavy. He swallowed hard before speaking again. “I-I need…” He whimpered, eyes almost rolling to the back of his neck in pleasure. And that was just from Derek’s _mouth._

The werewolf groaned into his neck before pulling away and meeting Stiles’ gaze. He looked utterly debauched; his swollen lips pink and shiny with spit, his pupils blown wide, what little of the irises left the incomprehensible mix of colours that Stiles still couldn’t figure out: flecks of gold, blue and green. Stiles’ right thumb traced over Derek’s lips, smiling as the werewolf nipped playfully at the pad, before he brought it up to his cheekbone; his other hand on the side of Derek’s neck, long fingers playing with the ends of his hair and the skin behind his ear.

They both leaned in subconsciously, drawn to each other like they both knew what the other way thinking, what they needed. Their lips met in a flurry of heated kisses, hard and wet and passionate, biting and teasing the other. Derek tugged Stiles’ closer, or as close as he could get considering, arms wrapped around the lithe frame protectively, like he wanted to fully immerse himself with Stiles; wanted to feel every inch of his mate pressed up against him.

Stiles moaned against Derek’s lips at the feeling, going with the movement and rolling his hips. He smirked into Derek’s mouth as the Alpha groaned, sharp claws digging into the flesh of his hips just enough to pinch. Stiles kept up with the rhythm, rolling his hips faster and faster, his own cock brushing up against Derek’s abdomen, strings of pre-come joining them together. He rolled until Derek had to pull away from Stiles’ mouth, putting what little concentration he had left into feeling his mate.

Derek brought his hands down from Stiles’ hips until they rested on his ass, flattening his feet out on the bed before lifting Stiles’ up, just enough so only the head of his cock was still inside. Stiles moaned filthily at the feeling as Derek dropped him back down like a heavy weight. Stiles dug his own fingers back into Derek’s shoulders as he held on, pushing himself up and down Derek’s cock as best he could whilst the werewolf helped.

Derek watched raptly as Stiles’ threw his head back and groaned at such pleasure, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Derek leaned forward and nibbled on Stiles’ collarbone, marking the skin as his. Once Stiles had found his rhythm, Derek brought his right hand off of Stiles’ ass, his fingers instantly wrapping around Stiles’ cock. He smiled into Stiles’ skin as he whimpered, bouncing up and down with renewed vigour, desperate for the friction Derek’s hand caused on him. The obscene noises of sex: filthy moans, the repetitive slap of skin on skin, deep groans and whispered words of approval filled the quiet loft, drowning out everything else around them.

Behind them, the door to Derek’s bedroom crashed open as a familiar voice called out. “Hey Derek, you seen – Ahhh!”

Both Alpha and human jolted like a small current of electricity had just passed through them, Stiles all but screaming at the intrusion as he scrambled off of Derek’s lap. They hurried to cover themselves up: Stiles with a pillow, Derek with the bed sheets that had pooled around his feet.

“What the hell you guys?” Scott called out, his back turned to the room and its inhabitants. He had a hand over his eyes as well, trying to make sure he didn’t see anything else.

“Scott? What the hell are you doing here?” Stiles asked breathlessly, trying to keep the annoyance out of his hoarse voice. It was meant to be a pack-free day. Scott was meant to be hanging out with Isaac or Allison (or both). He wasn’t meant to be here, in Derek’s bedroom, after just having walked in on them.

“I-” Scott started as he subconsciously started to turn around. He glanced at Stiles quickly out of the corner of his eye before his head whipped round again like he had forgotten why he had his back turned. His body tensed with determination to stay facing the other way, arms shaking as he clenched his fist, steeling himself. “I’ll be downstairs.” He announced, before all but leaping down the spiral staircase, obviously desperate to get away. Stiles collapsed back against the headboard and turned to face Derek. Derek, who was hiding his face in his hands in embarrassment at being caught in such comprising positions. The tips of his ears had gone pink, and Stiles had to physically bite down on his lip to stop himself from _cooing_ at how adorable his boyfriend was.

“At least it wasn’t my dad?” Stiles suggested, lips tugging up in a grin as he shrugged his shoulders.

Before Derek could say anything, or even move, in response, Scott yelled out from downstairs. “Oh my God Stiles!”

The human in question chuckled, his level of impulse control fading as embarrassment set in. His face and neck already felt like they were on fire, the flush quickly spreading down his chest. “We should…” He started, motioning to the open door as Derek finally looked up at him.

Derek nodded in assent as they silently climbed out of bed, hurriedly putting clothes on like it would stave off the awkwardness. Before Stiles could walk out the door however, Derek caught his wrist, tugging him back into his chest gently. The Alpha lowered his head until his lips brushed against Stiles’ ear, the scrape of his stubble and the curl of his hot breath against his earlobe sending shivers over the teenager.

“This isn’t over.” He promised, pinching Stiles’ side playfully.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and let his own lips brush against the werewolf’s. “I should hope not.” He responded with a smile, before pulling away. He took Derek’s hand as he led them downstairs, rolling his eyes at Scott’s barely suppressed groan, clearly having heard them. Nothing was sacred anymore.

“So, Scott, what can we do for you today?” Stiles teased as they descended down the stairs, hands still intertwined. They came to a stop behind the couch where Scott was pacing back and forth quickly; eyes still laser focused on the floor like if he looked up the two of them would still be naked. “Scott?” Stiles called out, trying to get his best friend’s attention.

Scott abruptly stopped where he stood and turned to face them, mouth opening and closing like a guppy as he tried to comprehend what he had just walked in on, what it meant, how long it had been going on for, why didn’t he know, tried to come up with anything to say.

“What?” Is what came out eventually.

“What what what?” Stiles asked, smile faltering slightly.

“What?” Came Scott’s reply.

“What did you mean ‘what'?”

“I think he means ‘what was that?’” Derek piped in dryly. “You see Scott, when two consenting adults…” He started, before Stiles cut him off with a pathetic slap to his chest.

Scott rolled his eyes before saying, “Bite me.”

“That’s actually what he does to me.” Stiles supplied, his brain-to-mouth filter completely gone.

“Oh my God Stiles!” Scott yelled before Stiles had even finished speaking. He groaned as Stiles hid his shit-eating grin into Derek’s shoulder. “Are you two together?” He finally managed to ask eloquently.

“Yes.” Derek answered, no hint of any other information on his tongue.

Scott gaped again, wondering if he had been hit on the head at some point in the recent past. “But…but you guys hate each other.”

“Haven’t in a long time Scotty.” Stiles said, coming out of Derek’s chest as he looked back over at his friend.

“How long?” Scott breathed out, picking up his pacing again.

“How long have we liked each other or how long have we been dating?”

Scott threw him a look that Stiles red as _“don’t be an idiot”_ without stopping his pacing. He had been hanging around Derek too much if that was now a face Scott could pull. “Seven, almost eight months now.”

“ _Eight months!?”_ Scott yelled as he stumbled to a stop, jaw almost hitting in the floor as he stared at the two of them like they’d grown extra heads. “Why?” He breathed out after Stiles’ agreeing nod.

“‘Why’ what? You’re not being very clear here Scott. ‘Why’ didn’t we tell you or ‘why’ are we together?” Stiles asked, brow furrowing again.

Scott tilted his head like he was trying to determine which one he meant. “Both.” He shrugged eventually.

Derek rolled his eyes with a huff, hand squeezing Stiles’ in comfort. It hurt, that Scott would question why they were together. Sure they butted heads before, they had their disagreements. But through it all there was something undeniable connecting the two of them, something everyone else had already seen and long ago accepted, so why couldn’t Scott.

“I’m his mate, Scott. As for-”

“His mate?” Scott yelled, incredulously as his gaze flicked between the two of them in disbelief. Derek tensed instantly, eyes flaring red as a growl escaped between his lips. Scott did a double-take as he hunkered down, submitting to the Alpha.

“Yes, Scott. His mate. Just like Allison is to you. And don’t pull the ‘he’s dangerous’ card or whatever, okay? Derek would never, has never, hurt me. I chose this, and I’m more than happy with it. I know what it all means, okay? And I still chose it, chose him. Everyone else is happy for us, why can’t you be?” Stiles asked, voice breaking a little at the end. He hadn’t realised until now just how much Scott’s approval of this relationship meant to him.

“I just want you safe, Stiles.” Scott admitted with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“You don’t think Derek wouldn’t do anything to keep me safe?” Stiles asked, thumb tracing over Derek’s knuckles in comfort.

Scott looked over at Derek, something like assurance in his eyes as he considered the Alpha. “No, I know he would.” Scott said after a minute. Stiles released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Just, why didn’t you tell me?” Scott asked.

“We just wanted to keep it quiet for a while, get to know us as ‘us’ without everyone butting in all the time.” Stiles shrugged, looking over at Derek briefly. The Alpha offered him a smile small as he let go of Stiles’ hand, wrapping an arm around his back and tugging the teenager into his side.

“Who else knows?”

“Actually everyone. You were the last to find out.”

Scott nodded once, and then twice as he thought everything over. After a couple of awkward minutes of silence, he finally looked back up at the two of them. He gave them a happy smile, nothing feigned or fake about it, as he said teasingly. “Next time, lock your freaking door. No one needs to see that.”

Derek huffed fondly and rolled his eyes, the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He said as he nodded, breathing better now that Stiles had fully relaxed in his hold.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m just going to go home and maybe bleach my eyes out.” Scott winced as he waved at the two of them, hurrying out the door.

Stiles turned to Derek as soon as Scott had left, eyes wide and hopeful. “Bed?”

“Bed.” Derek agreed. He chuckled as he heard Scott’s yelled reply, too quiet for Stiles to hear. The teenager tilted his head in question, prompting Derek to relay what he had heard Scott say.

_“At least wait until I’m out of the building!”_

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say again: thank you all so much for all the comments and the bookmarks and the kudos and even just the number of hits this has gotten. I seriously didn't think it would get the response it did. You really do have no idea how much it all means to me!
> 
> My companion piece, titled "We're Not Dating!", will be put up either tonight, or tomorrow night, so look out for that. It's a reverse of this, in case you didn't get it from the title. I also have a whole folder full of other fics that I've finished as well (all Sterek because I'm trash), so who knows, maybe they'll be published as well in the future. 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for all the love you've given this fic! You guys are all amazing!


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